


Little Birds

by luxartisan



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:03:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxartisan/pseuds/luxartisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're young, but not too young. They're in love, and love is all that matters. It's Tamaki's 23rd birthday and Haruhi is the perfect gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This two-shot can stand alone, but is slated for expansion in the future.

Cherry blossom petals flutter around Haruhi and Tamaki, landing soundlessly, gracefully; their bittersweet reminder of beauty's intangibility and life's brevity muted by the utter joy they bring to those who bear witness. Moonlight frosts the grassy areas beyond, dusting them sage, silver and white as the rolling grounds play with the ambient light.

She dashes ahead a few feet and twirls in place with her arms outstretched and hands wide open. He simply watches, enjoying her moment of child-like delight. A gust of chill wind transforms flutter into flurry, a pink and white tempest that ends as quickly as it begins. Haruhi pulls the light-weight cardigan she wears over her flowery dress tighter around her.

"Are you cold?" Tamaki asks approaching her. Her sweater is much too thin for such a brisk April night and he's worried she'll get sick. They should have just gotten into the car.

"A little," she says which means it's much more than that.

She always minimizes discomfort, unwilling to be a burden on anyone. He knows this. He stops in front of her, then reaches out to pluck a few stray petals that cling to her hair. She keeps it shoulder-length now and he likes it, though he'll always be partial to the short bob she used to maintain when first they met. He's sentimental that way.

He doffs the vanilla kidskin jacket she gifted him for his birthday and settles it around her shoulders. He glances down, the gold lariat he gave her for her 22nd birthday back in February rests against her soft skin, its intricate chain laying smoothly against her chest though the tipped points of the dangling hearts dip into her modest cleavage.

When his eyes lift to hers, he sees her watching him quizzically but with a smile.

"Admiring your gift?" she asks.

"Admiring you," he responds before dropping his head to meet her rising one. She looks around to see if anyone is watching, then offers her lips to him. They're warm, giving and familiar.

Neither of them is the awkward teenager they were when they first embarked on a journey of discovery and love. She has been nothing short of amazing to him in her willingness to learn and to please. And he, in turn, always aims to please her more than she needs.

Her hands grasp the ends of the cashmere scarf wrapped around his neck, keeping his face close to hers.

"Tamaki?" she asks quietly.

"Yes?"

"I'm tired. I think I'd like to go home now."

_I'm being selfish._ To her, he says, "Of course. I'm sorry to keep you out so late. I'll take you back to your apartment-"

"Tamaki?," she interrupts, pulling him just a bit closer.

"Hmmm?"

"I want to go to _your_ home."

"Oh," he simply says, then "Ohh," he says in understanding, his cheeks warming.

She says she finds it charming, but it irks him that she can still make him blush like a schoolboy instead of the graduate student, businessman and major stockholder of Suoh Enterprises that he is.

"Can we?" she asks, eyes aglow. _As if she needs to beg._

"Just try and stop me," he says grabbing her hand and walking them briskly out of the park.

They slide into the warmth of the antique Duesenberg belonging to his father, a gracious allowance from the senior Suoh to mark his son's 23rd birthday. Getting Haruhi to take a day off from school and work had been the harder task of the two. The newly hired chauffeur, unfamiliar with the Suoh heir, had looked a bit surprised when the young, blond-haired, European-looking gentleman first greeted him this morning, explaining the day's itinerary in impeccable Japanese.

Tamaki had suggested to Haruhi that they fly the corporate jet to Okinawa for the day, but Haruhi refused to spend money foolishly; instead urging him to send the money it would have cost directly to the Okinawan effort for independence. They debated about it, but in the end he did so as René Grantaine, not Suoh Tamaki. She'd given him a sharp look at his modest deception, but they agreed to disagree. And so they took the early morning bullet train to Kyoto where they visited the same places he'd seen for the first time with Kyoya a decade before.

Gazing across the reflecting pond at the Golden Pavilion, he regaled her with stories about his early days in Japan. "I can't believe I didn't tell you that." She'd laughed at the way he revealed his early adventures with his still-best friend, then an unsuspecting middle schooler. "And can you believe his family didn't even own a Kotatsu! I mean, come on, really?"

She chuckled. "Neither did mine, remember?"

"Yeah, but your dad's place is small. Kyoya could've had a hundred Kotatsus just in his bedroom."

"So did you really force him to buy one?"

"Just one," he says as if it's the number and not the "forcing" that's at issue. "I asked him why they're only used in winter when they could easily be multi-seasonal. Did I ever tell you about my idea to make a reversible Kotatsu?"

"With the mahjong table?"

"Or whatever you custom designed. I'm going to make that happen, Haruhi. Wouldn't it be nice if elementary schools had children sit around a Kotatsu all year long instead of cold tables? I think it would lead to better interpersonal skills."

" _I_ think it would lead to lots of kids getting kicked in the shins."

"Haruhi, you have to dream BIG."

"I'll let you do that for the both of us. How is Kyoya anyway?"

"Good. I spoke to him last week and he's in the middle of some major deal. Typical. New girlfriend."

"Another one?"

"What can I say? He's easily bored."

"And difficult to understand. He always was wrapped a bit tight."

"It gets him what he wants."

"Does it?" The way she drops her voice in volume and inflects her question, makes him throw her a puzzled look.

"I know this: the Host Club wouldn't have lasted six months without his management."

"Is he still obsessed with his place in the Ootori legacy?"

"No so much now. I think he's happier, too."

"I hope so. He deserves it. Tell him I said hello, ok?"

"I always do, right after he asks about you."

She doesn't reply.

Later that evening, back in town, they feast on seasonal cuisine prepared by culinary masters and sip warm sake. The walk in the park is impromptu and now the young couple is cuddled in the back of the elegant automobile contemplating what awaits them once away from the prying eyes of the public.

The drive home is quiet, the city's bright lights left behind and the chauffeur discreet as he spies on them. They're a handsome pair, though strikingly different in appearance. The girl sitting beside the Suoh heir apparent is his fiancée, he's been told. It must be a love match because she watches her escort with an unmistakable look the driver's seen a thousand times during his career, but which always makes him smile.

As they leave downtown and head to the outer suburbs, the landscape changes to less crowded housing, high brick walls, and mansions set back from the road at the end of serpentine driveways that bespeak wealth. The Deusy pulls into one such entrance and follows a long drive that curves into a copse of red budding trees, continuing until it pulls up in front of a multi-storied manse, Western and elegant in appearance.

The exterior lanterns flanking the wide front door flicker on with the movement but Tamaki directs the chauffeur to bypass the main entrance and pull up to the servants' entrance at the back of the house. They exit there and Haruhi slips her arms through the jacket's, pulling the over-sized sleeves around herself. The air here is colder than mid-metropolis but it's peaceful, so very different from the hustle and bustle that ever exists outside her abode.

The driver is dismissed for the night. As soon as the car is out of sight, Tamaki reaches for the girl and holds her close, drawing her upward so his mouth can taste hers hungrily. "Been wanting to do that for the last hour," he says roughly as they part and she drops down from her toes. "You're rules are so unfair, Haruhi."

"Delayed gratification has its charms, though. Don't you think?"

"Charming but frustrating. Inside, ma belle." She precedes him to a simple arched door, white stone crunching beneath their feet. Tamaki punches his code, HARUHI4EVA, into the keyless entry pad and the green light flashes, unlocking the house to them.

Their footsteps echo on the kitchen's ceramic tiles. Antoinette's collar tags jingle and her claws click-click their way rapidly towards them tail spinning in wide circles. Though no longer a puppy, she's still exuberant when her master arrives, rising up on two legs, pinning him against the counter trying to lick his face.

"Antoinette, get down," Tamaki chortles, his lack of firmness with the canine clear. Haruhi just smiles.

"Wouldn't you rather I be doing that?" she asks and giggles.

"Merde. Antoinette, down!" he insists, pushing the fluffy dog away who drops to four paws then turns to Haruhi for attention. She bends over to ruffle the silky ears and press her cheek to the dog's head.

"You're a good girl, Antoinette, aren't you? Silly Tamaki. Where's your water bowl?" She retrieves it then heads to the sink, filling the dish and returning it. Antoinette dogs her steps and laps at the cool drink when presented, tail activity reduced to a simple wag. Their interaction, along with Haruhi's heels clacking against the hard floor, echoes throughout the darkened room.

"Take off your shoes before Shima-san hears us. She might be sleeping," Tamaki whispers.

"If she's asleep how could she hear us? And doesn't she wear a hearing aid? Why would she be wearing it if she's already asleep?"

Tamaki is frustrated by her logic. "I don't know, but she's got ESP or something."

Haruhi slips off her heels, reducing her height by several inches. "Hey Shorty," Tamaki quips. "Do I know you?"

"Oh be quiet, Halfer."

"Ahh, but which half is which? And which do you prefer?" She gives him a death stare regarding their ongoing joke about the accuracy or inaccuracy of certain stereotypes. He's never noticed much difference between himself and his friends' masculine attributes but it embarrasses Haruhi to no end so he teases her about it.

"I wouldn't know, I'm sure," she says sliding his jacket off her shoulders and placing it on the back of a low-backed stool pushed under the dining island. Tamaki is busy rummaging in the refrigerator. "You can't still be hungry," she whispers with incredulity.

"Why not?" he replies, eyes scanning the abundantly filled bins and shelves in front of him. "Yesss!" he exclaims and reaches into the crisper for a handful of kumquats. Stepping back, the door eases closed and he steps to his left to open the wine storage unit, searching for, finding and laying claim to the single golden bottle of Cristal Cuvee stowed beside the Dom Pérignon and the Krug he's not allowed to touch per his father's threat of disinheritance. "Grab a bowl and some flutes, would you?"

He turns and finds her standing next to him. "No strawberries?" Haruhi asks, a little disappointed.

"Not today, but you'll make these sweet, my sweet," he charms plopping the small orange fruits into the earthenware bowl Haruhi holds in one hand with champagne flutes and linen napkins in the other. He steps away from the full-length door and it hisses closed.

As Haruhi moves past him, he pivots, grabbing her by the waist with his free arm and pulling her against him. "You know I'm always hungry for you," he says against the top of her head and he feels her body sigh.

"Give me ten minutes?" she queries turning her face upwards.

"Five," he says brooking no argument. She simply nods and leaves him behind.

He slowly follows, Antoinette pushing past him as he climbs the first flight of two shadowed staircases that sit at the back of the house. He's not thinking about much except for the girl who he hopes is ready and waiting for him in the far north bedroom in his well-appointed bed. Otherwise preoccupied, he yelps when a short dark figure emerges onto the first floor landing.

"Shima-san, you scared the hell out of me."

"Mind your words, Master Tamaki."

"Sorry, but you did."

"Just making sure everything is fine."

"Everything is…good. I'm fine." He catches her looking at the champagne in his hand.

"Is Miss Haruhi staying the night?"

"Ummm…I don't know but you don't need to do anything for us."

"I've already stocked the refrigerator with things I know she likes just in case she's here for awhile."

Tamaki eyes the elderly woman with fondness. "Thank you, Shima-san. I always can count on you, can't I?"

"As long as you understand that, I'm content to remain in your service."

"I do and…" He pauses, then adds, "Sleep well." She bows slightly and turns, retreating into the dark hallway to her apartment. _She'll be discreet and un-bothersome for the rest of the night. Perfect._ Tamaki turns and bounds up the second flight. It's been more than ten minutes and he's unwilling to give up any more time than necessary on unnecessary things.

The door to his suite is ajar and as he enters, he immediately looks to his bed. The covers are turned down but Haruhi isn't there. Shower? He heads to the large, double sink bath. The room is steamy, the heavy glass doors of the double shower stall bearing droplets of water from recent use but Haruhi is not there either. _Whatever. Maybe she's roaming._

Since there's opportunity, he strips off his clothing and leaves them in a pile on the bamboo bench outside the bay. Stepping into the larger than usual space, he closes the heavy glass door and regulates the temperature before stepping under the wide spray. Turning his back to the shower, he tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting the heated water wash over him.

He doesn't hear her enter or is even aware of her presence until she swings the door open and steps inside to join him. Once alert to her, though, he merely smiles as she molds her naked body to his, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed against his mid-torso. The hurried rush he'd felt before has eased into the less urgent mode of one who knows there's time enough for love.

Haruhi's hands slide upwards along his back as she kisses his chest. With both of them fully drenched, Tamaki reaches up and pushes the long-armed, articulated shower head to one side. Haruhi releases him and he turns in place to grab the sea sponge that rests in the impressed multi-shelved niche beside the water control lever. Squeezing out a huge dollop of fragrant bodysoap, he mashes it into the sponge with his fingers until it's a soapy, sudsy mass with a looped cord attached.

Haruhi's arms appear on either side of him from behind, her hands opening and closing with an unspoken request. He lets the sponge drop into one hand, then turns to face her. Her hair is twisted up, held in place by a blue clippie thing with her bangs askew and sticking to her forehead. So cute.

"Hair or body first?" she asks.

"Anything you decide is fine with me," he says before pulling her naked body upwards along his own arched one to take her mouth with his own. She moans into him hooking a leg around his, drawing his rising erection against her stomach, then pushing him back.

He'll let her decide their order for the evening and, apparently, she's decided to be practical. _Very Haruhi of Haruhi._ With the loop around her wrist she slides the sponge along his chest leaving a trail of iridescent bubbles on his skin. He relaxes as she coats him with lather from the neck down, back and front, carefully avoiding setting him off prematurely, though he wouldn't argue if she cared to do so.

She drops the sponge to the floor, then splays her hands, letting each one descend slowly along the contours of his toned arms - shoulders to hands and back until they meet at his clavicle. She caresses his torso to his flat abdomen, sliding hands around his back and upwards to feel the strength of broad shoulders. He hums his approval, relishing the feel of her small hands sliding with soapy slickness as she tells him how much she loves his body with touch alone.

She continues her veneration, squatting down to follow the long lines of his legs, coated with coarse pale hair on his lower legs that becomes finer as her hands move upwards to massage his thighs. His breathing is shallow as her face nears his erection but she doesn't touch him. So frustrating and arousing simultaneously.

"Haruhi," he begs.

"Patience," she advises and he groans.

She rises, her hands roaming his tight buttocks, a single finger sliding between muscle to lightly tease the pucker within. He grunts as he tightens around her touch, pearly precum issuing from his fully turgid cock between their pressed bodies.

"Haru…" he sighs, breathing somewhat labored.

That's when she tells him in a rather stern voice, "Bench."

The way she orders him is both shocking and stimulating, and he loves her this way. He moves to the back of the over-sized stall where a permanent ledge topped with bamboo slats waits. He lets himself down onto it, arms limp and legs spread, bent at the knees.

Haruhi picks up the wooden dipper and bucket on the floor beside his foot and fills it with water channeling from the shower head nearby. She repeatedly ladles water over him, letting the bubbles wash away along with all remaining traces of tension. The sound of flowing water further adds to his tranquil albeit expectant mood. Attending to his studies while learning how to manage a nationally recognized business is challenging and tiring but Haruhi's sweet attentions have, except for his evident arousal, left him boneless.

She refills the bucket, then drops to her knees before him. Picking up the sponge, she offers his phallus every bit of loving attention as the rest of his body. It doesn't get any better than this until it does.

In his mentally relaxed state, he can only release a long soundless sough of breath as her fingers encircle his length with a soap slicked hand. Her touch is smooth and easy, a different sensation than the rougher texture of the sponge she rubs against his balls. He trembles, offering deep sounds of contentment for her efforts as his body ratchets tighter.

She stops, her awareness of his responses keen. The sponge is lost and she rinses him off. Placing both hands on his thighs, she looks up into his heavy lidded eyes.

"I adore you," she says and he's undone emotionally by the fervency in her voice. He mouths the words "Je t'aime." She takes him in hand and drops her head, taking just the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him. His eyes are pressed closed, focused on nothing but the overriding sensation of pleasure that grips his entire body. _Mon Dieu._

She alternates her swirl with several quick hard laps at the underside of the head, something she knows he likes. It never does take much to send him over though he wishes he could hold off just to keep her angelic mouth doing devilish things to him. But _it's fine. Just…fine._

"Hhh- aar-" he manages to utter before speech is lost, just as he is, in the maelstrom of emotion and sensation that envelops him in its fierce, unrelenting grip pushing from his scrotum seed, his nervous system spasms of release and his heart unwavering love for the woman who has brought him to this. He's out of touch with reality for a few mindless minutes.

In the immediate afterglow of orgasm, his blond head falls forward towards his chest. He hears Haruhi moving about but is too relaxed to do anything but listen. When she says softly, "Head back, please," he obeys without questioning, eyes still closed, and feels Haruhi's fingers massaging his scalp with shampoo. He imagines himself the prince he's always considered himself to be, while knowing he's nothing but a slave to the woman handling him. Such is her power over him.

"Haruhi?" he finally says in a husky voice as she rinses out the shampoo.

"Yes?" she replies still attending to him, watching where the bubbles flow so as not to sting his eyes.

"Do you…like doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"You know…that."

She presses a fingertip into his cheek and he opens his eyes, finding hers looking pointedly into his own not far above. "You mean bathing you?"

"No." He feels awkward.

"Then you must mean shampooing your hair."

"Haruhi, you know what I'm talking about."

One corner of her mouth turns up. "So why can't you just say it? We're grown-ups now and we know each other quite well, I'd say."

"Fine. Do you enjoy…giving…head?"

She chuckles at his discomfort. "No," she says, a sly tone in her voice.

His disappointment is clear. "No?"

"I only enjoy giving it to you," she murmurs, leaning in to kiss his mouth. "You taste like champagne, you know." He couldn't be more pleased at her analogy than if he'd thought of it himself. Her host training has obviously made a lasting impression.

"Really? How?" Ever the sucker for a compliment, he can't resist asking.

She drops the ladle into the bucket and straddles his legs, her core pressed into his belly, her calves curled around his. It's only been a few minutes, but he can almost, almost feel a twitch at the base of his cock reigniting.

"Well…, she begins. "You're fragrant, fresh and succulent."

His eyes are wide as he confesses, "I think that's the dirtiest thing I've ever heard you say. I…love it!" She laughs out loud and he adds, "You're amazing."

"Amazing," she states though it nearly sounds like a question.

"Yeah. Utterly, positively, uncategorically, _fucking_ amazing."

She tips her head at him. "Hmpf. Then I better get a good tip."

"Better than good," he promises then queries through pursed lips, "Can we nap first?"

"We?"

"Okay. Me."

"What about the kumquats?"

"Oh hell. And the Cristal."

"Not too much. I need you alert and attentive."

"Oh, I'll be attentive," he reassures, covering her backside with his large hands and pulling her hard against him so that her breath hitches and she mewls her need. "Just give me a few minutes." But he's drowsy.

She untangles herself and leaves him alone. He forces himself to stand up and follow. _Just a few winks_. He towels off and secures the bath sheet around his hips, scruffing a smaller towel through his hair.

In the bedroom proper, Haruhi is lying on the bed on her stomach, chin resting on her hands, facing the antique French baroque footboard. The bowl of kumquats is next to her, the Cristal and glasses on the nightstand. She's wearing his pajama top, leaving him only the bottoms. He's bought her lacy nighties and satin sleepshirts, among other things, but she continues to steal his pajama top whenever she sleeps over. It's usually how he knows she plans to spend the night.

"Hey," he calls and she looks over, her hair twisted into a towel and the rounded curves of her bottom peeking out from under the hem of her makeshift nightwear. It's a lovely picture that he plans to mess up. _Never put off until tomorrow what one can enjoy today._

Haruhi rolls over onto her back and brings her hands up in front of her face. "I'm a prune," she chides. "And it's all because of you."

Tamaki drops both towels to the floor and slips into the pajama bottoms that match her top. He nicely but firmly forces Antoinette out of the bedroom, locking the door behind her firmly, locking it for the night. He strolls back to the bed and stretches out beside her, imitating her position. It's well after midnight and his lethargy and bodily satisfaction have made him undeniably sleepy. He hears Haruhi talking to him about…something, but it's already past his ability to comprehend.

He's asleep.

End ~ Chapter 1

 


	2. Chapter 2

The pillows are layered and soft and Haruhi snuggles her head deeper into one, her body curled in on itself beneath the downy warmth of the duvet. The room is quite dark and she isn't quite lucid when she feels Tamaki nuzzling her ear.

"Are you awake, Princess?" He's not allowed to call her that anywhere but here. Here, it's special and somehow sexy when it's just the two of them sharing heat, heartbeats and places on one another's bodies no one else has permission to touch.

"Tamaki…" she grumbles, but she isn't angry, just still asleep.

"I promised you I'd be attentive," he cajoles.

 _Damn morning person._ Dawn's slow arrival has begun bringing soft light into their hideaway, all colors faded into a monochrome palette.

"The birds aren't even up yet," she complains, pulling the covers closer around her.

"But I _am_."

He presses himself around her form and she feels what he's talking about against her lower back. "What is it with guys and morning sex?" she says, her voice gravelly with sleep.

"What do mean 'guys?' Just how many have there been?"

"Stop being insecure." She's only half asleep now but the subject of the suitor who preceded Tamaki's ultimate victory is her kami-given right to keep to herself, despite his endless curiosity.

"Just don't forget you're _my_ Ha-ru-hi," he whispers, brushing his lips against her cheek. Her eyes remain closed. No one has ever said her name in quite the way he does when he's trying to seduce her. It doesn't take much in any event, but she does love the way he manages to fill those three syllables with all of his love and need for her.

She turns her head slightly, her lips parted as they meet his and she moans when his tongue pushes into her mouth to claim her. He tastes somewhat bitter, but they both do. His tongue teasing hers preoccupies her thoughts as he unbuttons the pajama top she's wearing single-handedly, pushing the fabric aside and covering her breast with his hand. The feel of his palm on her pushes her further awake and her pulse upward. She turns further into him as his other hand snakes under her and around her waist, keeping her where he wants her.

_Never let me go._

He breaks the kiss, allowing her to breathe before a gasp takes her when he rolls her nipple between his thumb and index finger. The spark he ignites flares hot and immediate. This is Tamaki playing her body like an intoxicating concerto. His hands are elegant and strong, his touch confident.

He sidles downwards along her body and a soft sound of pleasure escapes her as his mouth moves to the spot his fingers have just left leaving his hand free to explore elsewhere. Her pulse is racing now, sleep left far behind as arousal kicks into high gear.

An audible sigh escapes her as she watches his mouth caress her. He lifts his head and the morning chill further hardens her nipple wet with his saliva. He brings his attention to the other breast as his less encumbered hand slides downwards along her unclad lower half.

Long, slender fingers slide between her legs and she drops a knee outward, access granted, his touch desperately wanted. Her hands are tangled in his soft hair, keeping him close as he continues to suckle and tease. "Yes, oh yes," she coos as he finds her, moist with anticipation of him.

Her breathing is quick and harsh, her body craving more. How does he do this to her so quickly? _It isn't fair. Not at all._ "Pajamas off," she pants. He lifts his eyes and she sees the passion that smolders there. She could ask anything of him now and he might agree, though her will is equally compromised. Such is the power of love.

"Whatever you want, Princess." His voice is a low rumble, a baritone quality emerging from his usual sweet tenor. He lay on his side beside her, his mouth lazed around the bud of her breast as he sheds the thin pants, then returns to his manipulation of the hot, wet folds between her legs.

Her skin is flushed, her eyes jammed shut once more as she mewls and moans her pleasure for him. "Tamaki," she calls, immersed in her own mind, his name merely a self-reminder of who is feeding her frenzy. He slowly strokes his thumb against the swollen nub that crowns her fevered sex as long fingers delve her core. The desired result is achieved and she shudders and ahhs, closing her eyes once more.

"Haruhi," he murmurs drawing her thoughts to him. His cheek is now pressed onto her pillow, his lips at her ear."Tell me," he cajoles. "Who did you think about when you did this to yourself?"

"W-what?" she says, feigning not to understand his question.

"Back in high school. We all fantasized about you, but who did you fantasize about? I know you did."

"Only you," she pants on uneven breath as her brain processes his startling though not unexpected statement about the host club members' mental gyrations and likely accompanying behaviors while they were all less than wise and often quite foolish.

"Don't lie to me. That may be true now but it wasn't always like that, was it?" he says softly and her brows knit.

He withdraws his fingers and she voices her objection until she feels him angling her body so he can see her face and still stimulate her. He pushes the pajama shirt off her available shoulder and holds it still so she can free her arm from its confines. The other will have to wait.

"I know you, Haruhi. I know you thought about them all, so tell me."

 _This could be dangerous. Or fun. It does seem like minor recompense for all the girls he'd wooed and god knows what else in those days._ His fingers return to her, drawing from her deepest sighs and uneven hums of encouragement. He's rekindled old memories, now, and the idea of sharing with him her past affections pushes her to a higher state of arousal. _If he really wants to know.._.

He presses his thumb towards the place where his fingers internally stroke and shortens the distance between, creating a sweet slide of friction that hitches her breathing. "Kyoya," she murmurs and she hears Tamaki's intake of breath as her body undulates with the memory of the dark-haired intellectual. Smart is sexy and Kyoya is brilliant and…unattainable by virtue of his societal status. Maybe in an alternate universe she could have had Tamaki and Kyoya, both. _Dream on._

"Who else?" Tamaki rasps, his composure cracked though he maintains his steady movement on her.

Press…slide. "Kaoru," she admits on a sigh then, "Hikaru." Together? Always, in her mind; an idea so hot she finds herself re-imagining the possibility and feeling somewhat guilty about the way it spikes her heartbeat.

Tamaki forces a downshift back into the present. "Who else?" his whisper is breathy and she suddenly realizes that instead of being troubled by her admissions, he's invested in her fantasies. _Maybe he sees himself there, too. Who knew?_

Press…slide. Haruhi smiles and gives a soft giggle. "Sweet Honey," she says seductively knowing that Tamaki can figure out what their near-matching heights makes tenable. Then, without prompting she hums, "Mmmmori." Last, but obviously not least in her favor. But Honey and Mori together? Never. Singly, in succession, was often the way she thought of them. She inhales deeply, exhalation staggered.

Tamaki swears softly. "I knew it." His fingers have stopped moving. Her eyes fly open at his quiet invective, but when she turns to meet his eyes she sees humor, not anger. Tamaki's childish outbursts no longer plague him in the same manner nor for the same reasons. He's grown up in many ways.

Now in his twenties, his captivating looks have matured from adolescent cute to adult dazzling. His boyish charm keeps him at the center of attention from both women and men - an undeniable force of Nature. His keen intelligence oft times catches people by surprise but he's clinched many a deal with charm and looks alone - securing hefty donations from wealthy dowagers and smitten socialites to finalizing negotiations with influential men who simply wanted to study and experience his mojo, hoping it might rub off.

Haruhi isn't the jealous sort and he's never given her reason to be though she sometimes wishes, when in public with him, that she could have him wear a visible tag that says, "Private Property." But it's the price she pays for loving a charismatic man with the looks, wealth and influence to make a significant mark on the world. Who'd have guessed? She did, though it took her awhile to realize that her feelings of denial were simply feelings of…denial.

Now he's hers and she's ensconced in his life, his heart and his bed. She loves him completely and is niggled by the notion that despite his complicity in their diversion, he may harbor residual anxiety. "You know I'm yours and yours alone," she murmurs.

"You're naughty for teasing me like that."

"And you're naughty for falling asleep in the middle of me talking to you last night."

"Well, I'm wide awake now, so…" His voice drops in pitch and volume, "What do want, Princess? I am your humble servant."

"Just love me," she confesses feeling her heart fill, knowing that all her fantasies can never compare to the reality that is Suoh Tamaki.

His lips capture hers, moving slowly and methodically until she pushes into _his_ mouth with her tongue. He responds, his tongue never quite invading fully. Instead, he kisses with nips and laps that tease and taunt. She tries to claim him, but fails, acquiescing victory without regret.

He turns their bodies together until she's astride his hips. She's lazy but awake as she rises to her knees and guides the tip of his shaft to her opening. She holds his solemn gaze within her own as she presses her hands into his chest and sinks onto his stiff warmth inch by inch, letting it fill her until her body meets his. It's a struggle to keep her eyes open against the incredible way he feels inside of her.

She likes everything they do sexually, but she craves these quiet moments when she can fully realize their union, bodies as one, symbolically and actually, before the intensity of copulation begins. It's the most basic yet sublime human connection she can think of, with the exception of bringing new life into the world. Perhaps one day and perhaps with the beautiful man below her, she will know that transcendence, too. It's a dream of hers.

She leans into the angle that provides the most friction for her and begins to gyrate her hips against him. Her initial movements are slow and even. _This is communion. This is bliss._ Neither of them can stifle the way the sheer pleasure of it forces irregular sounds from them to create an easy, natural harmony. When her friends say they pretend to be forced into sex to let the man feel in control, she shakes her head to herself and shrugs. _Maybe that's their cosplay._ She's always genuine with Tamaki and he with her.

Her pace increases and his elbows push into the mattress, his hands offered to hers for resistance. They entwine fingers and she pushes against his palms, lifting her body off him part way before falling and sliding their bodies together, augmenting the pressure and friction against her pubic bone and the tender spot just below that sends jolts of liquefying electricity to her extremities without allowing release, searing her skin with a fiery blush from her cheeks to her toes.

She rides him, just so. It's good. So very good, but the strain on her legs begins to fatigue her. He notices and disentangles his hands to grab her hips. She surrenders into his grasp, her hands resting behind her neck, letting him control the pace for awhile as he rocks her against him, continuing the delicious sensations that pleasure them both. Their pace is steady, tension rising in a slow escalating wave. The journey always has been as rewarding as the destination.

She thanks him by lifting her arms above her head, elongating her torso in a way he finds alluring, her dark hair falling across one eye. She's glad it does because she's still a little shy about being so blatantly feminine and using her wiles to manipulate him, even for his satisfaction.

It's taken time, but womanhood has found Haruhi and she's discovered that she enjoys it. Far from diminishing her place in the world as she once feared it might, she's figured out what every intelligent and savvy female knows: the true source of her power is what's currently wrapped around her lover's own source of power. She embraces every aspect of herself without shame, understanding that it's the primal life energy defined by gender and imbued with heart and mind and soul that makes a person whole. It's given her confidence to be exactly who she is and to go after what she wants.

 _What do I want? You, Tamaki. Only you._ She sighs.

Her arms undulate and curl, hand over hand, arm within arm in a rise and fall of seductive and beautiful movement that he's told her reminds him of something out of the Arabian Nights with himself as the Raj and Haruhi his royal consort. This is his active imagination at work and he's got lots of ideas. She happens to really like this one.

"You're so beautiful," he tells her after a few mesmerized minutes, his violet eyes raking over her so filled with his want that she forgets to breathe.

"And you," she responds and leans over, her arms laying on either side of his head, her forehead pressed to his.

"You still haven't told me what you want, Haruhi. You know I love you, but how can I pleasure you?" His sultry tone leaves her weak.

She demurs a little then, though she's gotten better at asking for what she likes. She looks into his eyes, bites her lower lip and leans over to whisper in his ear, "Your mouth. On me."

He smiles, then, and rolls her onto her back, sliding out of her as they move. Anticipation sources her shallow breath, quick as her beating heart. Her fingers toy with his ears as he trails kisses down her belly and her knees fall wider open like the pages of some esoteric book that only he can read. The air around them smells musky with sex. She's slick with shared fluids but he's never minded and he doesn't mind now.

Completely overheated, she manages to get her other arm out of the pajama sleeve unable to keep anything against her inflamed skin. She waits, head thrown back into the tumbled pillows. She is at his mercy and his disposal and grateful for that fact.

He calmly threads his arms under her bent knees, his hands to the tops of her thighs, holding her in place as he plants tiny kisses on her inner thighs, each in turn. He's murmuring words against her skin but she can't understand, can't decipher anything through the miasma of her mind. She trembles, needing his touch _right now_ on the swell of her need.

"Please," she begs so quietly she barely hears her own voice. But he does.

She cries out at the first touch of his mouth upon her, her hips arching against his firm hold. He alternates the pressure and timing of his tongue's strokes. _Oh god. More_. She squirms wickedly under his talented attentions, an occasional sound of sheer delight falling from her lips. _Yes, that's it. That's…perfect._

A few minutes of his relentless and expert skill and her body is taut like a hard-strung bow, but she's edging and can't climax. Its tantalizing nearness is maddening and she wants this orgasm. She needs it. "Tamaki," she whimpers. "I can't…" she says between pants.

His mouth leaves her and he says, "Turn over," he directs on an exhale. She complies, still breathing hard, body aroused to the point of pain. Tamaki moves forward until he's kneeling behind her. Placing one hand against the center of her back he gently but firmly pushes down and she drops her cheek into the pillows, tucking several smaller ones beneath her belly for support, her hands pressed into the mattress close to her body.

Tamaki pulls her hips upwards while she's on her knees, her bottom tucked against his groin. He guides himself into her once more and pushes in halfway with a guttural chuff. She's always stopped him when they're tried this before because it was uncomfortable. She's experienced with him now and wants to try once more.

He reaches around to find her center again, but she says, "Go deeper."

"You're sure?" She hears his masked excitement at the prospect.

"Yes. I want you all the way inside of me like this."

"You'll tell me if it hurts."

"I will." _No, I won't._

"I might lose it."

"Isn't that the point?" she teases.

"Not before you," he states and she closes her eyes, her body aching with dissatisfaction, her mind trying not to over think things. The brain may be the most erotic organ, but too much thinking kills sensation. _Just let it happen. He wants you to be happy. He loves you._ Her heart squeezes.

His first stroke pulls out only an inch or two before easing back into her. His groan tells her that it feels good to him but still he asks her, "Is that alright?"

"Yeah. That was…good." She's less frustrated, knowing he's careful of her. The way his body fits with hers feels good, too.

"I'll try to keep it slow but-"

"Just do it," she whispers.

He repeats his actions, each time moving deeper within until she's taken his entirety. The sensation she feels is different, a slight burn deep inside hurting but not so much that she wants to stop. It's more like a stiff muscle being kneaded into relaxation; fine, until he tries to move her hips higher against his body to increase the angle of penetration. She voices her discomfort with a wordless mewl.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Just give me a minute."

She can feel him grabbing the base of his cock to diminish feeling. "Haruhi," he breathes after a bit, "I need to do this. I want to do this."

"Uh-huh. I'm ready."

He begins to stroke out and in, pausing every few cycles to assess her comfort. As she stretches internally to accommodate his girth higher up and pinned against her lower wall, the burn eases, replaced by the more familiar sensation of pleasure, only much deeper than before.

"Ohhh," she sighs as the tip of his penis bumps against her cervix sending a full-blown shiver throughout her body. "Different."

"Good different or bad different?" He sounds concerned.

"Oh no," she reassures. "Very, very good. A-plus. Do that again."

So he does, pulling out nearly all the way before sliding back in completely in one quick slide.

"Ahhhh," they both exhale, her eyelids fluttering at the shot of pleasure that erupts in her. She doesn't know why nor does she care why this particular position feels so sinfully good, but it does. He experiments with depth and timing to determine her pleasure, his breathing growing shallow and harsh, his pace quickening. All she has to do now is…

"Touch yourself, Haruhi." His voice is all at once insistent and dark and she knows it well. "I want to know that you are while I fuck you hard."

It's shocking and uncharacteristic and exactly what she needs, what she craves - his utter loss of control; civility peeled away to bare his deepest nature to her - the perfect aphrodisiac in the carefully contained world of Japanese wealth and society. His freedom liberates her.

"Now?" she queries wanting his dominance.

"Now," he demands. He pushes her deeper into the pillows, his large hand spanning the space between her shoulder blades as the other grips her hip. She presses her non-dominant hand firmly against the headboard to give herself breathing room as the other snakes downward to find herself.

He begins thrusting into her at a steady rate and her fingers rub hard circles against the now engorged locus of her pleasure and the indefinable spot just below where she feels the deepest sensation. The build-up of tension quickly plateaus to its former level but this time, she doesn't relent.

Tamaki's hips slam his cock into her over and over, the sound of flesh slapping flesh infused with her breathy exhalations and his pants of exertion. Her body quivers with pained-pleasure for a few seconds before a hard frisson tremors through her, a million points of light bursting behind her eyes while spasms of intense pleasure blossom in a racemose from her core to her extremities. She's repeating his name unevenly, captive in ecstasy's embrace as her lungs expand and contract with short hard breaths.

"I love you," she can't help but call out in a broken voice to the only man who's heard these words from her. He pistons with greater intensity until his body suddenly seizes and his voice is ripped from his throat as orgasm stakes its hard-won claim. His hand leaves her back and palm-smashes the headboard beside her own, his labored breath and growled exhalations continuing until, at last, he slumps into the bedding.

They lie unmoving, overwhelmed by emotion and activity. With no small amount of effort, Haruhi reaches over and pulls the coverlet that was kicked to one side over them entirely, including their heads and the pillows, creating a cocoon against the encroaching light of day as she spoons against her lover's back, slinking one arm beneath her head and the other under Tamaki's arm to rest against his sweat-sheened chest. Her legs entwine with his and her feet brush his calves. She presses her lips to his damp shoulder, then her cheek. Tamaki gives a little grunt, but remains otherwise unmoving. He'll be useless for awhile so she drowses and allows Tuesday morning to continue advancing.

When next she opens her eyes, the color of the sky beyond the tall windows shows bluish-gray streaked with magenta and pink. A cacophony of birdsong fills the air, muffled by the drapes that flank the paned glass. Another spring dawn has risen.

Haruhi peeks over Tamaki's shoulder at the night stand where the bowl of kumquats and now warm Cristal Cuvee stand beside two stemmed flutes and two white linen napkins. She draws on and buttons the pajama top earlier discarded and crawls over Tamaki's lifeless form to grab a few of the small bright fruits.

Back in place against the pillows, she plucks off the remainder of stem on one and bites it in half. The tart juice squirts into her mouth and her cheeks purse at the sourness of it. "Mmmm." She's hungry now.

"What are you doing?" Tamaki gruffs without moving.

"Enjoying Life." She props a few pillows against the headboard and settles her back into them, coverlet crumpled in her lap, four kumquats lined up an irregular row thereon.

He turns then, his head peeking out from beneath the coverlet, followed by a hand that grabs hers forcing her to feed him the rest of the juicy orb. He licks his lips.

"You taste better," he says. "And we never opened the Cuvee." He sounds disappointed.

"Maybe you can save it for another birthday." She tucks her hair behind her ears, then lifts and bites into another fruit, offering him the other half. He takes it into his mouth, sucking off the juice that stains her fingers. She pulls them away and sucks on them herself. Tamaki's eyes watch her and she feels decadent.

"Maybe we can pop the cork tonight?" he inquires in a hopeful tone.

"Sorry, but it's a weeknight and I have class until four. Then I have to work at the library 'til ten."

"Call in sick."

"My boss will kill me."

"I'm your boss, remember?"

"I'm employed by Suoh Enterprises via the university on a part-time basis, not by you directly. And I don't want special treatment."

"Oh don't you?" he says, his fingers beneath the covers tracing a curving path up her thigh. She reaches under and slaps it away.

"And when I see you later you better not make any remarks or give any indication that we're anything other than colleagues."

"Haruhi, people know we're together."

"That doesn't mean we should flaunt it. This is Japan. You should know that by now."

"Like I said before, your rules are unfair. And so are Japan's."

"But you'll abide?"

"If the payoff is as good as last night and this morning."

"Then all is well."

"Yes, Princess. All is well."

She smiles, leans over and gives him a sticky kiss.

End ~ Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was inspired by... 
> 
> May My Heart Always Be Open  
> e.e. cummings
> 
> may my heart always be open to little  
> birds who are the secrets of living  
> whatever they sing is better than to know  
> and if men should not hear them men are old
> 
> may my mind stroll about hungry  
> and fearless and thirsty and supple  
> and even if it's sunday may i be wrong  
> for whenever men are right they are not young
> 
> and may myself do nothing usefully  
> and love yourself so more than truly  
> there's never been quite such a fool who could fail  
> pulling all the sky over him with one smile


End file.
